VAMPIRES IN THE TEMPLE
by M.I. Harrison
Copyright 2012 by M. I. Harrison
Becky had asked me to meet her at Squatters, the downtown pub and brewery in Salt Lake City known for serving such local favorites as “Provo Girl Pilsner,” “Emigration Amber Ale,” and “Big Cottonwood.”
“Jack!” she called from a stool and waved to me. She looked like summer incarnate, with tan pants and a voluminous yellow lawn shirt.
I kissed her and sat down, after which the area around me mysteriously became vacant. That happens to me sometimes. I don’t know that I can explain it. Becky teases me that it’s my smell. I’m not sure she’s wrong, but not for the reason that she thinks.